Mad Ninja Skillz and Other Stories
by Beertree
Summary: A series of TFAni. short drabbles written for the LJ comm TF Animated.
1. Mad Ninja Skillz

"Where did you get your mad, ninja skillz?"

Prowl glanced down at the tiny human, his mouth stretched into a tight frown. "I'm afraid I don't understand. What are mad, ninja skillz?"

Sari hopped up onto the chair next to the motorcycle bot and stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Oh, you know, like Enter the Dragon and Bruce Lee and Hong Kong Fooey. Hai ya!" She struck a pose, hands flattened in a karate imitation. "You have throwing stars and you do all kinds of exciting things, even turn invisible. Wait a minute." She jumped down from the chair and hurried off into Autobots' base. Minutes later she was back with her laptop.

Prowl watched the girl silently as she opened the computer and started wildly punching keys. Finally she sat back apparently satisfied. "Here, watch."

A movie was playing and Prowl studied it silently. Surely the humans couldn't really move like that. They seemed to defy gravity as they fought each other. He turned puzzled optics to Sari.

"Mad, ninja skillz," she said with a giggle.

"I see," he answered but his tone definitely implied that he did not see at all. The movie finally ended, and she started up another. The night wore on and Prowl continued to watch ninja movies. Sari dozed and then was retrieved by Bumblebee, who escorted her home.

Later the next day, Sari appeared at Prowl's cubicle, eyebrows raised questioningly. "So?"

"So?" he responded dryly.

"Ninja skillz?"

"Oh, yes. I am not really a ninja, merely an adept of Circuit Su. It appears similar which forces me to ask, can humans really perform the moves I saw in the movies?"

Sari laughed. "No, that's all special effects. Made up. Nobody can do those things. Well, nobody but you. What's Circuit Su?"

"I'm afraid it would take too long to explain it adequately. I spent vorns, many of your years, learning it. To explain it in the time you have would be a disservice to both you and Circuit Su."

Sari's expression made it obvious that she didn't like his answer but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't going to explain any more. "How good are? I mean, among other masters of Circuit Su?"

His expression, guarded even during the best of time, grew still and blank. "Apparently not good enough," he said quietly. "Or I would not have ended up repairing Space Bridges, a job I am entirely unsuited for." He shook his head. "I should not have said that…"

"Maybe you were too good," Sari offered. "I know I sometimes end up doing things that seem like punishment because someone got jealous."

His hard expression softened just a bit. "Maybe…I doubt it but it's a possibility. Thank you."

"No problem." She patted his knee.

"So," he said, a slight smile appearing on his face. "About those mad, ninja skillz." He struck a pose straight from one of the movies. "Beware the ninjabot," he growled.

"Hai ya!" Sari responded, mimicking him exactly.


	2. Falling

Prowl dropped through the hole in the ceiling of the Autobots' "secret base" and headed directly for his room, racing ahead of the other 'Bots as they returned home from an extended goodwill tour arranged by the mayor of Detroit. He'd spent the entire tour wishing he could be back in his quiet room away from the noisy crowds of Humans who swarmed to see them.

With a poorly concealed sigh of relief, he carefully opened the fragile doors to his quarters and entered. He froze in horror at the sight that greeted his optics. His tree had turned yellow. The shining green leaves that provided protection for many wild creatures and a hiding place for him had turned yellow and a large number of them littered the mats that covered his floor. A light breeze blew through the missing roof and wall and a swirl of leaves flew past him to join the leaves already on the ground.

"No," he whispered and rushed to the tree, placing his hands on the trunk. Was his tree dying? When had it started? Why hadn't he noticed?

He heard voices as the rest of the Autobots arrived. "Ratchet!" he shouted.

The voices stopped and then he heard the sound of Ratchet's feet pounding down the corridor. He didn't even turn around to make sure Ratchet was actually in the room before blurting out, "Something is wrong with the tree."

He turned worried optics to Ratchet. "Can you help it?"

Ratchet paused in the doorway and stared at the tree. "Calm down, Prowl. Let me check it out." He approached the tree and ran a quick scan. He compared it to previous scans he'd made of the tree. Scans he'd made out of curiosity. The results were puzzling and a bit worrying.

"Your tree is no longer growing. It seems to have shut off. I hate to say this but it could be dying."

Prowl looked stricken. "It can't be. It's been here for so long."

"Maybe it's just reached the end of its existence. I'm sure trees don't live forever."

"But I've barely had a chance to get to know it," Prowl said quietly and sadly. He put his hand on the tree's trunk and gazed up into the rapidly emptying branches. "So many creatures made their home up there."

By this time, the rest of the Autobots and Sari had arrived. They all seemed to realize that something was wrong with the tree except Sari. She squeezed through Bumblebee's motionless legs and entered the room looking up at the sad faces.

"What's going on?"

"There's something wrong with Prowl's tree," Bumblebee said, his voice actually showing some respect for the moment.

Sari looked back at the tree and then at the Autobots. She didn't know whether to laugh or go along with the somber mood. She decided to giggle. "There's nothing wrong with your tree, Prowl."

Prowl turned and frowned at the girl. "There isn't? Then why is it shedding leaves?"

"It does that every year. Most of the trees around here do that. Well, not pine trees, they're evergreens, but your tree…it's a maple, by the way, loses its leaves in the Fall and grows new ones in the Spring. It's…resting, in recharge, for the winter when it's cold and less daylight. It's completely normal." She kicked some of the leaves on the floor. "You'll want to get rid of these though. Remember the mess you had to clear out when you found this room? This is how it started."

Prowl nodded. "I definitely remember." The others nodded in agreement. It had been a mess, a thick layer of rotting vegetation they had to clean up. It had been so bad that each one of them, except Prowl, had wondered at some point if it was even worth the effort.

She stared at him curiously. "Didn't you notice the other trees losing their leaves? Or at least changing color?"

He shook his head, obviously a little embarrassed. "I noticed the color change but we've been so busy I didn't see the leaves falling. I suppose I need more stillness. My powers of observation seem to be suffering from too much activity. So, Sari, what else do we have to look forward too?"

Sari rubbed the tree bark. "You know, I don't think I've told you all about snow," she said and grinned with anticipation.


	3. Decision

"Patch me into Cybertron Command Headquarters," I say, the confidence in my voice sounding weak even to me. I've been in this situation before, well, not exactly the same. I wasn't facing Decepticons with the AllSpark in my hold so I'm hoping the outcome will be different.

Sentinel Prime appears on the screen and my fuel pump skips a cycle. "Optimus Prime, you mean they still let you command other Autobots?"

He hasn't changed a bit, his voice drips with sarcasm.

"Don't start, Sentinel," I think. I try to sound more confident than I feel. "Just put me through to Ultra Magnus."

"Now, how could a third rate rock buster possible merit the Autobots supreme commander's attention?"

I cringe and try not to look around but I can feel the optics of my team burning into my back. This isn't the response I was hoping for. Being brushed off in front of your crew, the people who depend on you for their lives, doesn't bestow confidence.

I show Sentinel the All Spark and his smug smile disappears. Better, I think. Ultra Magnus appears on the screen and my hopes sink as he vaguely listens to my request and dismisses me in a few unimpressed words.

"Probably just a lost scout ship. Meantime, you and your bots just sit tight. And Prime, don't try to be a hero. It's not in your programming."

No, being a hero is not in my programming. Doing what's right is. Letting these mechs get deactivated by slavishly following orders, orders given by mechs who don't have all the information, or refuse to listen to it or believe it, would be wrong.

Why Magnus and Sentinel think that that is being a hero is beyond my comprehension. I did what I thought was right back at the Academy. I can't help it if they think it's wrong.

I finally turn and face my crew. I see fear, anger, and confidence that'll I'll do what's right. I won't let these mechs down because I'm told not to be a hero, because I'm ordered to sit and wait for the Decepticons to come and blow us out of Space. I'm here and I know what the right thing to do is. I suck in a great gulp through my intakes as I turn to face the command screen again, my decision made.

"Teletraan 1, set a course for the nearest space bridge."


	4. Spark Sword

**This story started out as an entry in the TFAnimated LJ comm's ****drabble**** contest but it grew. So it's a story. Jazz has not appeared in the toon yet. I'm just using my imagination here. Anyway, this was in****tended for the prompt "memory."**** Okay, updated to replace silly dividers that didn't show up. Sorry for the confusion.**

"Here's the box you wanted, Prowl," Bulkhead announced from the large door leading into Prowl's quarters.

Prowl stopped sweeping the last of the leaves and dirt and turned to looked at the green mech and the small, to Bulkhead, metal box he was holding. "I trust you didn't have any trouble finding it?"

"It was right where you said it would be," Bulkhead answered. "Where do you want it?"

Prowl shrugged slightly. The room was completely empty except for the tree. The concrete floor was relatively clean now; the walls scrubbed and barren of decoration.

"Put it anywhere, Bulkhead." He studied the box in Bulkhead's hands. It was clean and dry. "I was afraid there might have been a leak in the storage locker. I take it the Ark is holding up well under water?"

The big mech nodded amiably and entered the room looking around for a spot. "Oh, yeah, she's solid as a rock and happy as a clam. Teletran 1 now, she's a little on the slagged side. I think she's bored," he rambled on as he tried to decide on a place to put the box. Nothing seemed better than right at his feet so he set the metal box down with a clank and grinned at Prowl. "Ya know, you're the only one with any personal things besides data pads and tapes. What didya bring?"

Sari stuck her head into the room. "What's going on? What's in the box? Wow, the room looks great, Prowl. A little plain but it's clean."

"Thank you, Sari. I felt bad evicting the snakes but I think they'll be happier outside." Prowl glanced at the box and then at the two curious faces. There was no harm in showing them the contents of the box. He was planning on displaying them anyway. "Come and look."

Sari shot between Bulkhead's legs and skidded to a stop a foot from the box. It was longer than she was tall and came up to her waist. The metal had intricate symbols carved into the burnished surface and was very beautiful. Prowl bent down and carefully unlocked it.

"It was a choice between some data pads I'd read a thousand times and these. I didn't feel like I could trust anybody to take care of them, not even…well, no one." He lifted the lid and Sari gasped.

"Oh," she whispered.

"Wow," Bulkhead said. "I wouldn't've left them behind either."

Prowl carefully lifted a shining sword from the padding it lay in and held it out for Sari to look at. "They're so beautiful, like Samurai swords, uh, Katanas, but they couldn't be because you brought them from Cybertron. What are they?" she asked in awe.

Prowl filed away the words Sari had said. If something on Earth was reminiscent of his swords, he was very curious to learn about it. "They're Spark swords. They're called that because legend says a piece of the weapon maker's Spark is embedded in each sword. I don't know if it's true or not but they are very special weapons. They almost seem like they have a mind of their own."

He brushed the tips of his fingers across the blade. "I am a master in the use of this type of sword. These swords are very old. In fact, they were very old when I found them and I've had them a long time." His voice trailed off as he thought about them.

"Are they just collectors' items or have you ever used them?" Sari asked after the silence went on for a bit too long.

The motorcycle mech looked up at her. "Once," he said…

--------

Prowl carefully removed the wrapping material from the box that had just been delivered to his quarters. He lifted the lid of the box containing three Spark swords he'd discovered in one of the underground bazaars where anything could be found and bought…for the right price. It had been obvious that the seller had no idea what he had because Prowl had bought them for a pittance of their true worth. He only had a brief pricking of his conscience as he handed over the credits but dismissed it because, after all, he would take good care of them, much better than the oily scraps the merchant had them wrapped in.

Lifting one out of the hastily packed box, he turned it over in his hands, admiring the reflections the light cast on the blade. He laid it down and removed the second blade. It was as beautiful as the first. The third lay in its place in the box, lovely as the first two.

He stood and hefted the blade, testing its balance. The sword was perfect. Blades like this just weren't made anymore. If the tales were true, there probably wasn't a sword maker alive who would be willing to make one.

He prepared to swing it when a faint scrape of metal on metal startled him. He spun around, blade in first position and found himself facing a mech he'd never seen before in his room when the door had been locked. The stranger met Prowl's surprised optics with a smirk. Still in position, blade poised and ready for the first move, Prowl quickly examined the mech. He was taller than Prowl and more solidly built and had a longer reach. His armor was a pristine white with night black markings on his torso, arms and legs. He had a blue optic band instead of individual optics and a helmet with a small brim that cast the band into shadow. Dead center on his chest was the Autobot sigil, the only spot of color on the mech. Prowl remained tense. Whoever he was, he was good. He'd gotten the drop on Prowl in his own room, probably purposely giving himself away at the last second.

The black and white mech nodded at the sword, "Ya any good with it?" His softly accented voice spoke of a life on the streets, that wasn't apparent from his appearance.

Prowl kept his face still, no smile in response to the question. Calmly he said, "I am a master of the Spark sword."

The mech's smirk turned into a smile. "I guess that means 'yes.' Ya up for a test of that claim?"

"I claimed nothing. I merely said I was a master. Someone else has judged my skill."

Laughing, the mech said, "True, true. I shouldn't put words in yer mouth. Still, you wanna give those swords a workout?"

That was exactly what Prowl wanted to do, but he'd not expected it to happen. He nodded and relaxed but didn't take his optics from the face of the stranger. He took a step back and picked up the second sword. Holding them across his palms, he offered the stranger his choice of weapon.

The black and white nodded politely at the offer and without glancing at the weapons, took the one nearest him. Prowl stepped back and let him test the blade and get a feel for it.

He swung it about a couple of time and then without a proper acknowledgement, the mech attacked. Not having let his guard drop, Prowl was not taken by surprise and parried the blow smoothly. The black and white advanced aggressively and Prowl went on the defensive giving himself a chance to study his opponent, getting a feel for his technique and skill level. He was good. Strong yet graceful, his technique showing he'd studied under a master but after a few minutes of parrying, Prowl knew that he was better. He let the mech continue his aggressive attack, building up his confidence, allowing the stronger mech to wear himself down.

There was a slight hesitation with the next blow and then a dragging of a foot and Prowl was ready. He took the offense, his blade a blur as he attacked. The mech stepped back and then took another step back. The flat of Prowl's blade slapped his opponent's fingers hard and with a yelp, the mech dropped the sword. He quickly raised both hands in defeat, but Prowl was having none of it. This stranger had broken into his room and challenged him and he was going to find out why. He kept the blade flashing in front of the mech, driving him back, that annoying smirk wiped clean off his face plate. With a crunch, the black and white hit the wall behind him and Prowl pressed forward, stopping only when his blade touched the exposed throat of the mech.

"I give, I give," the black and white gasped. Prowl didn't back down, his mouth a tight, grim line.

"Who are you?" he hissed. "Tell me now or I'll finish this."

Suddenly, the mech started to laugh. "Oh, ya will? Okay, I dare ya, but I don't think ya can."

Prowl pressed the blade forward. It touched the mech's throat and a drop of energon appeared on the blade glowing pinkly. He held it for a moment and then let the sword drop. "I don't want to get energon on my rug," he said and backed away.

The black and white reached up and rubbed his throat and then looked at the fluid on his fingers. For a moment, the look he gave Prowl scared the smaller mech. There was death there, probably his own. Then the mech laughed again and wiped his hand on his hip. He looked down at the floor. "You don't have a rug."

Prowl followed his gaze and then met his optic band and shrugged with a very small smile.

Jazz guffawed. "You had me going there for a klick. Takes a lot of bearings to do that. The name's Jazz." He grinned at Prowl as if Prowl should be impressed.

Prowl looked blankly back and shrugged. "Prowl," he said.

Jazz looked vaguely disappointed at not being recognized but recovered and smirked at the smaller mech. "Yeah, I know. Ya know, yer every bit as good as I heard. No, yer better."

Prowl acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod of his head. "Better than you, anyway," he dared.

"Hah," Jazz chuckled. "Nobody mentioned ya had a smart mouth."

Prowl actually let his mouth curve up into a small smile. "Nobody asked. I am, however, asking you why you're in my quarters. I know you didn't sneak in to give me a workout."

"I'm recruitin'," Jazz answered. "I had ta check ya out. Make sure you're up to what I'm offerin'."

Prowl looked at the Autobot symbol on Jazz's chest. "Not interested," he responded and started to turn away, no longer listening.

"You haven't even heard what I'm offerin'," Jazz said quickly, stopping Prowl in his tracks.

"I have a job. It pays well enough. I'm satisfied with it," he responded without turning around.

Jazz checked his throat again to make sure the bleeding had stopped. "A glorified security guard. How satisfied can ya be with that? I bet this was the first time since you started that ya got a chance ta work out. I'm right, aren't I?" Prowl turned and responded with that small shrug, expressing his indifference to anything Jazz thought. Jazz ignored it. "I'm offerin' you a chance ta do some good. Ta help others. Ta use what Primus gave ya. I want ya ta join my team."

"I'm not a team player. If you'd done your research like you said you did, you'd know that."

Jazz brushed that aside with a wave of his hand. "I don't think there's a team player among my entire team. Or at least, among the bots I have. I'm not lookin' for team players, I'm lookin' for the best; the best fighters, the best engineers, the smartest scientists, the oil that floats on the surface. I want you because yer the best.

"And don't think I didn't notice you eyein' that little face there." He pointed at the sigil on his chest. "If it's joinin' up that yer worried about then don't. This is my team. You answer to me and nobody else."

Prowl listened to Jazz carefully. He maintained his indifference, but Jazz had said one thing that might actually make a difference. It was a chance to help others, not just go through life without a goal or a cause. He hadn't wanted to remain sequestered in the school but he also didn't want to waste what he'd accomplished doing menial jobs just to earn living credits. "I'll think about it…"

Jazz shook his head. "No, don't just think about it. Come with me. Come meet the others, talk ta them, hear what they have ta say."

"I…," Prowl hesitated. He wanted to say 'yes' but he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do or the force of Jazz' personality compelling his answer. "Yes, I'll come talk to your friends. Let me put the swords away first."

Jazz laughed and clapped the small mech on the back. "You won't regret it."

Prowl picked up the two swords and carefully packed them away. "One thing," he said without looking up. "What is your specialty?"

Jazz squatted down next to Prowl. "A little o' this, a little o' that. Mostly I talk people inta things. And I blow stuff up."

---------

Sari laughed. "Did he really blow stuff up?"

Prowl nodded. "As far as I know, he still does. He was exceptionally good at it."

"And you joined the team?" Bulkhead asked in wonder. He knew which team Prowl was talking about. He was more than a little stunned to hear that Prowl had been one of Ultra Magnus' Elites.

"Yes, I did." He carefully returned the sword to its place in the box.

"What happened?"

Prowl ignored Bulkhead. Instead he picked up the box and moved it to a corner of the room where it would be out of the way. Without a glance back at the pair, he leaped into the tree and disappeared into the foliage.

"Guess he doesn't want to talk about it," Sari said.

"Just like Ratchet. Nobody wants to talk about anything."

"What about you, Bulkhead? Why are you part of the crew?"

Bulkhead sniffed and looked everywhere but at Sari. "I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled and headed out the door.


	5. Dancing Machine

**Updating pretty quick here. This story is total crack. As with the other stories, all background is totally fabricated. **

"Please tell me. Pleeeeease." Sari bounced on Bulkhead's chest.

"No. Don't ask me anymore." Bulkhead lay flat on his back, arms and legs spread eagled, trying not to move and dislodged the tiny human.

"Pleeeeeeease."

"No, no, no and stop with the big optics...eyes. I'm not telling and you can't make me."

Sari leaned forward bracing herself with her hands on Bulkhead's chin and peered into his optics with her patented "I'm going to get my way puppydog eyes." "C'mon, Bulkhead, you can tell me."

"What's going on here?" It was Optimus Prime to the rescue.

"I just asked Bulkhead a simple question and he won't answer me," Sari explained patiently.

"Because it's too embarrassing."

"What's too embarrassing?" Prowl entered the tv room curiosity clearly written on his face plate.

"Hey, Prowl," Sari greeted her second favorite bot. "I just was asking Bulky how he joined up with you all."

"Bulky?" Prowl asked, his hand covering his mouth to hide the smirk.

"Don't call me Bulky," Bulkhead protested, still trapped beneath the girl.

She made a face at him and turned her puppy dog eyes onto Prowl and Optimus.

The two Autobots exchanged amused glances.

"Well…." Optimus began.

"Nooooo," Bulkhead shouted over the other mech's words.

"WELL," he continued more firmly, "Prowl won him."

"Nooooo, don't tell…too late, " Bulkhead wailed and moaned.

"Prowl won him? Really?" Sari asked in amazement.

"Prowl won Bulkhead in a game of chance," Optimus explained.

"Ratchet and Optimus found Bulkhead on this planet we'd stopped on to restock and relax," Prowl continued.

"He was working as a bouncer at one of the less savory bars in the spaceport…"

"I wouldn't call it working," Prowl interrupted. "He was actually a slave. "

"Right, he'd apparently been kidnapped by slavers and sold to bar owner and put to work knocking the heads off of troublemakers."

"Which wasn't so bad. It was when he got up to dance and entertain the clientele that Ratchet decided something had to be done," Prowl continued.

"So, while I watched the floor show…he was actually quite good, you know. Not much of a dancer but he could belt out a song."

Bulkhead moaned again. "They made me do it. They put this collar on me…"He pointed to a small band around his neck. "If I didn't do what they said, I got zapped."

"So, while I waited behind, Ratchet went for Prowl."

"Bulkhead, how did you get kidnapped in the first place? You're a big, strong guy."

"I was looking for work on Cybertron and this guy offers me a job for me. I was pretty desperate so I followed him. Next thing I know, six guys jump me. I woke up with the inhibitor collar on, headed for who knows where."

"Awwww." Sari patted the big green mech on the chest.

Prowl waited for Sari's attention before continuing. "I got there and challenged the owner to a game of chance, not unlike your game of poker, with Bulkhead as the prize. I naturally won."

Bulkhead sighed. "So now I belong to Prowl."

"You're kidding." Sari stared at each mech.

Prowl finally grinned at her. "Nope. He belongs to me. One foot over the line and I zap him."

Bulkhead nodded gravely at her. " I like Prowl so I do what he tells me to do."

"Hrumph," Ratchet growled from the doorway. All heads turned in his direction. "Don't believe a word they say, kid."

"So he didn't really sing and dance?" Sari asked, slightly disappointed.

"Now I didn't say that. I disconnected the collar the second he boarded the Ark, that's all. You should see him swing that aft of his."


	6. New Duds

AN: Not yet an official entry in the next TF: Animated LJ drabble contest because the theme isn't official yet. But the bunny hit and I had to write. Prowl may be a bit out OOC here but eh, it's the thought that counts. Inspired by the G1 repaint contest Mr. Optimus Prime sponsored.

New Duds

He stood in front of the mirror, he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, mirrors being rather scarce on the Ark, and studied his new Earth mode. Serendipitously, he'd kept his original gold and black colors and his shape was rather close to his original form, but for some reason he wasn't pleased with the makeover. Maybe the colors weren't a lucky break; maybe he needed a change.

He turned and studied his back, pausing to make sure the door to this room, the humans called it a restroom even though there weren't any beds or recharge berths present, was shut and held closed by a piece of debris he'd found in the corner. A quick spin in front of the mirror and a pose later, the motorcycle shaped mech decided to do a quick Internet search for color options.

He studied hundred of pictures in a split second and realized that gold and black was not a conventional color for police vehicles. There were many different color combinations but black and white seemed to be the most common. He rather liked the stark contrast and it reminded him of another mech who always looked stunning in those colors.

A slow smile eased the stern expression and Prowl made the decision. He found a picture that fit his mode in a color scheme that was quite attractive and loaded the image into his memory core.

Seconds later he was ghosting his way through the corridors of the old manufacturing plant towards Ratchet's makeshift med bay where the old medic had moved their alt mode scanner for easier access. A quick glance around showed that the medic was not present and Prowl hurried over to the device. He loaded the scan into it and activated the timer and stepped inside.

Seconds later, a black and white version of Prowl emerged, sparkling in the artificial light. Glancing at his chest, he noticed that the scanner had included all the decals of the Highway Patrol department the picture had come from. Well, that couldn't be helped and it looked rather impressive, he thought.

"What the slag?" A rumbling voice shocked him and he spun around to face Ratchet. "I thought I heard the scanner activated." Ratchet hid his mouth with his hand, hiding his expression from Prowl. "Very sharp," the medic said, his voice muffled by his hand.

"Thank you," Prowl answered. "I felt like I needed a change."

Ratchet cocked his head to the side. "You do realize that you stand out like a an emergency beacon which, I gather, is the whole point of police vehicles being painted in bright colors and paint schemes that don't blend in. They need to be seen."

Prowl's mouth dropped open. "Not good for a stealthy ninja bot, huh?"

Ratchet shook his head and smiled sympathetically at the younger mech.

Prowl's shoulders drooped and he slumped back to the scanner. "I liked it so much, too," he mumbled.

"Wait," Ratchet said, grabbing Prowl's arm. "You can keep it for a while. Your original colors are programmed in, you can change back anytime you want."

Prowl brightened. "I want to see what the others think," he said and practically ran from the med bay.


End file.
